Finn sat on the park bench, basking in the sweet midday sun and shut her eyes. The crisp notebook she’d stolen (although was it stealing if nobody was there to stop you?) from Target sat in her lap, waiting expectantly for her to tell it the story of the last few months of her life. Tapping the pen to the corner of her mouth, Finn thought hard for an apt title for her story. She turned to her left and eyed her companion, who eyed her back, cocking his head slightly for a better look at her.
She started to write. The Earth Accor –
Next to her on the bench, Sgt. Pepper shouted, “Michelle, ma belle!”
“No,” Finn replied, not looking up. –ding to Finn L–
Lower now, and threateningly, he repeated, “Michelle ma belle!”
This time, she did look up. He was staring straight at her, a smug challenging expression on his face.
“I said no!”
He launched into his three word invective at the top of his rankling, vicious little lungs. “MICHELLE MA BELLLLE! MICHELLE MA BELLLLE! MICHELLE MA BE-“
Finn clenched her teeth together, and drew a thick line through The Earth According to Finn L, and replaced it with Finn, Alone: The Death of a Green Parrot Named Sgt. Pepper.
Just as she finished these words, something tremendous happened that made Finn forget all about wanting to write down the story of the last three months of her life. If she would have started it, which – it might as well be known – she never would, it would have started just like this:
One day, Finn Lee woke up to find the whole rest of the world was gone.
The realization occurred more quickly than she’d ever imagined it would, when she had chance to imagine the entire world just being gone (which, being Finn, was not something so very remote as one would think). She simply walked outside at 8:45 (late for work, if there had been a work to go to) and saw absolutely no cars on the street anywhere. No cop cars, no buses, no angry commuters, no fierce soccer moms blinking sleep out of their eyes and giving her the finger for going too slow.
She’d stared at the street for a full five minutes before realizing something strange was going on. Nothing was smoking. In disaster movies when everyone died except for the one person who hadn’t noticed the world going to shit, there was always smoke. And sirens. And people running around naked, and bloody zombies and cars overturned over large, smoking craters in the middle of the street.
But here, in front of Finn, there was nothing to indicate something was wrong, which was a sure indicator that something was indeed, horribly wrong.
“What the hell?” Finn talked to herself. Which was a good thing, considering.